


found in translation

by essektheylyss (midnightindigo)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau has interesting ideas about earning redemption, Foreign Language, Gen, Just... lots of discussion of swear words, Swearing, The Mighty Nein are all there but the rest of them are hanging out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightindigo/pseuds/essektheylyss
Summary: In the time Essek has been traveling with the Mighty Nein, Beauregard has maintained a cool distance, and he's willing to give her that space.What he didn't realize is that she speaks his language.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 14
Kudos: 266





	found in translation

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a funny idea and got wholesome, so enjoy.

They don’t often travel on foot, these days, not with two wizards who can take them to most anywhere on the continent and beyond, but sometimes they take their time, go the long way.

It’s a reminder, Essek thinks, that things shouldn’t always be easy. 

But by the fucking luxon, it’s so painfully dull sometimes.

This time, they’re in the far north, and the only person who isn’t complaining about their daylong walk is Jester, who he quickly learns has no problem with the cold, an inherited affinity for it from a crime lord father in Zadash.

That discovery makes her ease with forgiveness make more sense, though from what it sounds like, he has not been in the picture until very recently, and he returns to the thought that perhaps that’s just Jester—unafraid of the bite of the cold.

He is comfortable in the dark. He cannot say the same about the cold. He swears heavily under his breath in undercommon, and adds, “ _I should’ve gotten us closer._ ”

Beau, who always seems to be at his elbow whenever he looks, perks up. “What was that word?”

He switches to his lightly accented common as simply as if it was his first language, a practiced diplomat. The only thing it ever allowed him to do well was betray his country and his den and his friends, but he tries to ignore the thought as he looks at her, trying not to scowl. “What word was that?”

“That first word you said.” She switches to undercommon, which startles him enough that Yasha bumps into him, and he hurries to fall back into pace, tightening his cloak around his shoulders. “ _You said, ‘I should’ve gotten us closer,’ but you said something else first, and I didn’t know what the word was._ ”

" _When did you learn undercommon?_ "

“ _When we started needing it._ ” She shrugs, and gives him one of the snarkiest smiles he’s ever seen on her face. “Cobalt Soul was big on language acquisition, and I was always a big talker.”

He sighs. He is used to underestimating those who do not use the arcane, and it has always come back to bite him in the ass. “It’s not a word I would use around my mother, I will say that much.”

“Well, how much do we ever really want to talk around our mothers,” she replies breezily, her grin growing impossibly wider. “What was the word though? I don’t know any Kryn swear words.”

He sighs again. This is not the teaching he really cares to do, but her teeth look as sharp as his for a moment, and he thinks he can see the threat in the smile now. He repeats the word, enunciating it clearly this time, and explains what it translates to. “Are you satisfied?”

“Oh, there’s gotta be more. Come on, high society kid like you, you definitely know every impolite word in the book.”

He stops now, as Caduceus pauses at the back to take a second look at an odd tree he’s spotted, and crosses his arms as she smirks at him. “I think you and I grew up in very different versions of high society, Beauregard.”

“I think you and I both know that the upper class is the upper class, no matter where you are.”

Jester dramatically throws herself to the ground, declaring that she can’t go any further without lunch, and Beau’s smile is razor sharp. 

“Very well. Would you like me to write them out for you?”

She plops down cross-legged and starts pulling jerky out of her pack as he reluctantly takes the unsullied patch of snow beside her. 

“Nah, man. Just say them out loud. You committed treason, don’t tell me you’re a fucking prude?”

He wonders how long he will be at Beau’s mercy, and remembers that even as prickly as she is, her mercy is far kinder than the Bright Queen’s. “I am not a… _fucking prude,_ ” he says, switching to undercommon, and she grins as she rips a piece of jerky off by her teeth. It is uncanny how well she can mimic a predatory animal. It is uncanny how easily she makes him feel like prey.

“ _Well, that’s a relief. We don’t travel with— how did you say that again?_ ”

And so lunch goes, with him speaking every swear word that comes to mind, and her repeating them back enough times that she’s gotten down the pronunciation. She doesn’t have nearly the silver tongue that Caleb or Fjord do, as he knows, but she picks them up quickly, and her accent isn’t half bad, and suddenly he realizes that he can… simply speak, with her, in a language that he doesn’t have to filter through the translator in his head. It’s quick enough, and he’s used to the process, but he had not realized how much speaking in a foreign language while also staying in a foreign land was weighing on his mind.

And he starts to laugh easier, when she spits out the words in quick succession, and they’re both grinning now, and with food in his stomach and conversation that comes quicker than any he’s had in weeks, he doesn’t feel as cold for a moment, even settled in the snow as he is. 

As the rest of the group begins to pack up, to stand and stretch for the afternoon stretch of their journey, Beau vaults to her feet, as full of boundless energy as usual, and offers him a hand.

It’s the first time she has done so since he’d joined them. In fact, he thinks it’s the first time she’s even touched him. She’s been careful to edge away from them in their constructed living quarters every evening, when he sits upright with his legs gently crossed to trance while they sleep, and if they are traveling in a tighter pack than usual she seems constantly aware of not brushing up against him on accident. It’s not a version of affection that she seems willing to offer him yet, but though this action is casual, it feels like an olive branch. 

It feels like a hint of acceptance, and he is grateful for it. He had already felt more at home for a moment, speaking with her in undercommon, and as she pulls him to his feet, firmly on the ground, he thinks about the first time he can remember Beau specifically offering him a similar olive branch. _You don’t have to float around us, man._

He’d returned to floating, after he was found out, which they quickly put an end to—well, Jester and Caduceus had sat him down to remind him that wasn’t a defense he had to maintain, but he hadn’t been able to watch Beau for her reaction to see if that was something she still believed. 

“We can, you know, _chat_ , sometimes,” she offers, and everything feels a little like an offering as she switches languages again. “ _I mean, obviously the rest of them can’t speak undercommon, but if you’re, I dunno, tired—_ “ She shrugs, like this isn’t the kindest thing that she’s said to him in weeks, as if this is casual. “ _You don’t always have to translate for us. Not all of us._ ”

He thinks that if he were Jester or Caleb, he might hug her. If he were Caduceus or Fjord, he might squeeze her shoulder. If he were Veth or Yasha, he might punch her in the shoulder. But he is Essek, and he has never needed to learn how to show how grateful he is for small acts of kindness, and he certainly doesn’t know where he stands with her, even now. So he bites his lip, allowing himself the smallest smile. “ _Thank you, Beauregard._ ”

She snorts, and she does punch him lightly in the arm, which is still harder than his thin body is really equipped for, and he grunts slightly. And before he’s quite recovered, to his shock, she wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “ _You’re fuckin’ welcome, man._ ”

She lets go, and Jester catches up to them, squeezing in between. “Whatcha talking about? We don’t know what you’re saying!”

“It’s undercommon,” Essek answers. “Perhaps we can teach you.”

“Undercommon _swear words,_ ” Beau grins devilishly, and Essek immediately understands why when Jester’s eyes light up, and she pulls a small journal from her pocket. “I’m sure Essek probably knows some dirty jokes, too.”

“Oh my _god_ , Essek, will you teach me?” she squeals, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, and Beau jogs ahead with a bark of laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!


End file.
